The Habit
by Salazarfalcon
Summary: The first cut was an accident. The second, an experiment. The third became a habit. TW: self harm.


The Habit

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Summary: The first cut was an accident. The second, an experiment. The third became a habit. TW: self harm.

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AN: Yeah. Um. This is basically what I've been writing every time I put myself in the bad place. Yeah. It wasn't ever going to be published, but I think that if I'm brave enough to write it, I should be brave enough to post it. Hats off, kids.

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The first cut was an accident.

The second, an experiment.

The third became a habit.

It started with control. That was what it came down to in the end, and Estelle didn't have a drop of it. Any control she had was gone and replaced with pain, someone else's control that she couldn't grip in her hands or hold and it was terrifying.

It started with an accident.

Estelle had been careless, hadn't been thinking, maybe had been thinking too much. The knife she'd been handling slipped against her palm, cutting through skin and welling up with red. Estelle yelped and flinched and healed the cut immediately and later that night, when she woke up and wasn't sure where she was, she found herself remembering that pain.

She hadn't liked it; it hadn't felt good.

But she remembered how it had hurt and remembered that as long as she could hurt, she could feel, and she was herself.

Estelle fell asleep remembering that.

And then she forgot about it.

Until nearly a week later, anyway, when she bolted up in her bedroll. Estelle's heart raced, her vision swam, and she wasn't sure whether the shaking came from her or from the ground beneath her.

She remembered the pain and hadn't liked it.

Estelle remembered that as long as she could hurt, she could feel, and she was still herself.

Still trembling, she pulled her dagger from its sheath from its place underneath her pillow (for they all carried some small blade, if only for managing unruly foliage) and rolled it from hand to hand.

Maybe if she could control her pain, she could control this. Maybe she could finally stop the nightmares, the flashbacks, the muscle memory. Maybe if Estelle could take control of her pain, she wouldn't be so afraid of hurting people.

Maybe if Estelle could control her pain, she could control herself.

So she pulled in a breath, angled the knife, and drew a slow, superficial scratch across the flat of her hand. There was a sting that Estelle hated and a thin line of blood.

This was fine, she thought. Just an experiment, was all.

Estelle imagined that that little bit of blood was the damage that Alexei had done and her heart lightened. There it was; there was the pain and the shame seeping out of her drop by scarlet drop until all that was left inside her was Estelle, whole and hale as she should have been before Alexei got his hands inside and opened her up, hollowed her out, and filled her with the kinds of things that kept her awake at night.

And there it was, she thought, leaving her.

That was pretty nice, she thought, even if it did hurt, and when Estelle went back to bed she fell asleep the instant her head hit the pillow, and she awoke feeling more rested than she had in several weeks.

It started with control and ended with control, but it was also about fear. Fear and courage that twined together until Estelle couldn't figure out which was which.

She knew she shouldn't do this. Logically she knew it, knew that there was no way that this could be good for her, for anyone else. It wasn't healthy, would have told anyone else that it wasn't healthy. Maybe this made her the biggest hypocrite in the world, Estelle didn't know.

But honestly, there were enough times where she would have literally done anything to rest her mind that she couldn't make herself care sometimes.

It was fine, she thought.

It wasn't like she was actually hurting herself; it wasn't like she didn't heal herself once it was done. It wasn't like she liked the pain, just the idea that if she was going to hurt then it was going to be on her terms and hers alone.

There were only so many nights that she could stand to stay awake and still and stare at the fluttering fabric at the top of the tent and only so many nights that she could avoid whoever had the night watch and stare into the fire, boxed inside her own head. It started with control and ended with control with fear braided somewhere into the middle, and Estelle hated it.

And then it turned into a habit.

It was never anything major, never anything big. Just a few moments of watching herself bleed a little bit, trading in the shame for calm even though the shame later was even worse, because Estelle wasn't an idiot. She knew this wasn't healthy. Knew she shouldn't have the need to hurt herself just to get a night's sleep.

Knew she should probably tell someone.

Knew that she shouldn't be so afraid of telling someone.

But in the end Estelle couldn't. What would Yuri think if he knew what she was doing to herself? What would any of them think? She was weak, she was messed up in the head, maybe crazy. Definitely messed up at the very least. What if they wouldn't trust her anymore? What if they wouldn't let her keep traveling, didn't trust her to heal when she'd need to to keep them safe?

No, no…

Best to just try and manage it.

And then the problems just got larger and Estelle stopped thinking about the fact that she had a problem and focused entirely on simply coping, on figuring out how to get through the next day without being jumpy, and sometimes that line of blood was the only thing that calmed her mind, and sometimes she hated herself so much that she couldn't help but think she deserved it.

Until one night, very late, that she cut too deep.

It was an accident, definitely an accident.

* * *

Trembling, Estelle peeled back the flap of the tent and peered inside to eye the three sleeping lumps of human (and one dog). It was no use to try and quell the shaking; Estelle could still feel the bite of the blade through skin and shame.

"…Yuri?" she whispered into the darkness. Her voice came out in a hoarse croak that sounded nothing like her. "Yuri?"

One of the lumps rustled and rolled over and eventually sat upright.

"Estelle?" Yuri murmured, rubbing the sleep and confusion out of his eyes, "What is it?"

Estelle froze and looked him over. Spirits, what was she even doing? He was exhausted; they all were. He didn't need this, not from her. Not from some stupid, useless girl who didn't know how to function anymore without pain.

She closed her eyes and tried to look like she wasn't flinching.

"I—" she began and paused to try and dislodge the rasp from her throat, "I just—I wanted to talk to you about something. It's fine, though!" she backpedaled, "It doesn't matter! I-it can wait."

"Hold on a second," Yuri said, "Just let me put myself together. It's fine—"

"N-no!" Even Estelle was surprised at her own vehemence and it was a miracle that she didn't wake everyone in camp, talking like that. She could still feel steel pressing down. "No, it's fine. Really, it can wait. It's nothing."

"Wait!" Yuri demanded but only a rustle of fabric answered him. Estelle was gone as if she'd never been there in the first place. "Damnit, I said wait!"

Yuri staggered out of the tent just in time to see pink dart into the other one.

 _Damnit_!

He had the distinct feeling that either Judy or Rita would kill him if they were awake for this, but Estelle had woke _him_ up first! Yuri wrenched open the flap and glared inside, but it fell off his face like wet paint when he saw Estelle.

She was huddled over on the top of her bedroll and curling in on herself like she was trying to hide, and even from here he could see her shoulders shake. She looked up at the noise just long enough for him to see her face pale and streaked with tears.

She was silent.

"Estelle," Yuri said, shocked at the way her name came out of his mouth, soft and gentle. Almost cajoling, like he was trying to coax a frightened creature out from underneath his porch. Funny, he'd never needed to use that sort of tone with her before; she'd never reminded him enough of anything that would need it. She did now. "What's wrong?"

"Nothing," she force-whispered and only an idiot wouldn't have heard the hitch of sobs in the back of her throat, "Nothing, it's nothing—"

"Don't lie to me," Yuri bit out and reached inside to take her by the arm. The way she shook under his touch was terrifying. "Come on, Estelle," there was that quiet, patient cadence that he didn't feel, "Come out here and talk to me." It didn't take much effort to tug her out of the tent, gently, gently. She didn't fight him, even though she could have.

Estelle didn't fight even as a war waged openly in her eyes; the tension in her body screamed no but everything in her face begged him not to listen.

In the end, instinct won out and Yuri found himself wrapping an arm around her shoulders, because Estelle was shivering in the summer night like it was the middle of winter.

There was a little clearing just past a stretch of woods right outside camp and they walked there in silence. Yuri felt something cold curl up in the pit of his stomach; something was wrong, so very wrong.

Estelle looked more like she was about to be killed rather than talk and there was nothing in the world that was right in that. Not for her. She'd never once been afraid of him, not even when she found about Ragou…Cumore. What had changed? Why was she so frightened now?

They sat down on a mossy log—well, Yuri sat down on the log but Estelle dropped straight to the ground, and Yuri eventually just rolled his eyes and scooted down to join her, folding his legs up underneath him.

Grey eyes locked on green.

"What's going on?" he asked finally, when it became clear that Estelle wasn't going to start this even though, really, she _had_. Delicate hands folded in her lap to try and hide the shakes, Estelle watched those instead of Yuri. She never should have done this, she told herself fiercely, this wasn't the time. No one had the time or the energy to spare worrying about her—"Estelle!" Yuri snapped to get her attention and gripped her shoulder, "Tell me what's wrong," his voice lowered back into that soft, coaxing tone, "It's going to be okay. Whatever it is, you can tell me."

Something was wrong, very, very wrong and as much as Yuri would deny it, it was beginning to scare him.

So he did something he didn't normally do and sidled closer until they were sitting thigh-to-thigh, even though he'd much rather sit across from her so he could look her in the eyes instead.

"Please," he finally said, so low that it was nearly a whisper, "You wanted to tell me something."

Estelle didn't speak and instead held out her wrist, which trembled so hard that it was nearly like they were back in Zopheir again. Yuri shuddered in memory. That wasn't a place he ever wanted to go again. Ever.

Nevertheless, Yuri peered down and scrutinized it. Her wrist was unmarked but smeared with red, still tacky, and his head jerked up to look at her. Estelle stared into the fire.

"Estelle?"

"I cut myself," she said eventually, more of a whisper than her normal voice.

"I can see that," Yuri replied and tried to ignore the confusion and fear that battled inside his head. "You healed it, though."

"I know," she said.

Yuri was silent, confusion winning out on why exactly she was telling him this, until suddenly, he got it. An icicle of terror spiked in his throat.

"Estelle," he croaked, "It was just an accident, right?"

She didn't answer him.

"It was an accident?"

 _Please say it was an accident._

Slowly, very, very slowly, Estelle shook her head and Yuri felt the bottom drop out of his stomach. There were so many words racing through his head and then there were none at all, leaving a blank and all too frightening chill in it's wake.

It wasn't an accident.

Estelle cut herself.

Estelle cut herself and it wasn't an accident.

 _Estelle cut herself_ and it wasn't an accident.

"I…" she began, voice hoarse, "I didn't mean to. But it w-wasn't an accident." Her words shook and Yuri couldn't help reaching out to clasp her around her bloodied wrist, fingertips slipping in the tacky slick that smeared her skin. She shook under his grip, plainly terrified. Her eyes were wide and on the verge of going glassy, which Yuri knew full well meant that he wouldn't be getting anything sensical out of her until she calmed down enough to speak.

"It's gonna be alright," Yuri found himself crooning in that same strange, frightened animal tone, "I'm glad you told me." He wasn't sure whether he was trying to convince Estelle or himself. Either way, she steadied just a little bit until he thinks he might get some answers out of her. "Can you tell me why?"

Estelle wanted to curl up in a ball and cry but she couldn't even do that, not when _she did this_ , when she made this happen, when Yuri was holding onto her and he _knew_ and she never wanted him to know even though she did. She hated being like this and she felt even more helpless and cornered, but Yuri's hold on her was gentle and she could feel the warmth of his thigh pressed up close against her hip like something steadying, even though he probably wasn't aware that that was how it felt.

"He ruined me," she whispered so quietly that Yuri had to strain to hear, "Every time I close my eyes I feel like he's there and even though he's dead…" she broke off, swallowed, and continued, "I can still feel him in me. It hurts, Yuri. He made me _hate_ me. It hurts and it isn't going away and I can't do it anymore."

For a minute Yuri sat there silently and felt like he'd just been run over with a caravan.

Estelle, bright, smart, optimistic Estelle who was bullheaded and impulsive and sometimes thoughtless was staring at him like she thought he was going to cut her down himself and more than anything, Yuri was furious because he _didn't know a thing_. How many nights had she done this or stayed awake or-any of that? Estelle who healed them all every day was _hurting_ herself and Yuri hadn't known a thing.

The sin of ignorance felt worse than a lack of action.

Estelle apparently had enough self loathing for the both of them, though, and right now it was Yuri's job to do or give her whatever she needed him for. Yuri wasn't used to anyone trusting him with anything or going to him when they needed something other than brute force or someone particularly slippery but Estelle did and he didn't know if he was the right person for the job. Was there a right person for the job?

People weren't supposed to hurt so bad that they hurt themselves and he hated Alexei even more than he already did for doing that to her.

She was still waiting for him to answer and he gulped hard.

"Is there anything you can think of that I can do that will help or do you want me to guess?"

She looked away, radiating misery.

"I don't...I don't know. I wish I did," she said. Yuri rubbed the underside of her wrist with his thumb. " _I_ don't _know_. _I don't_ _know_." Her breathing staggered and went heady and rabbit quick as the feelings of being lost again crashed over her like a tidal wave. "I don't...it _hurts_ and I feel alone all the time and..." The tears long gathered in the corners of her eyes finally began to slip down her cheeks as it all sunk in again. Yuri looked so helpless and she wished that she hadn't said a thing.

"Do you...spirits, I suck at this," Yuri growled to himself. Estelle flinched and only his fingers wrapped around hers kept her from yanking her hand away. "How about we start with a hug?"

She froze and Yuri nodded a little to himself, leaning in.

"How about it?"

He released her wrist for the first time and opened his arms invitingly, and Estelle thought about it for maybe half a second before she practically fell into them, wrapping her arms around his body and pulling herself as close as she possibly could. The tears came hard and fast and it was everything she could do to not sob noisily like she wanted to. As it was, the only sound she made was a single high, keening noise from deep in her throat that got Yuri's arms tightening around her and nestling her nose into his shoulder.

Yuri was always very warm and very steady and Estelle felt safer with him than she was with anyone else she's met, more than her parents, more than Flynn. Somehow that knowledge just made her cry harder.

"You're alright, you're alright," Yuri says lowly into her hair, "It's gonna be okay, I've got you. You're going to be okay. I promise, you're going to be okay."

And somehow a part of Estelle believed him. Yuri didn't make promises, he just didn't. Said they were too much trouble than they were worth, especially if he couldn't follow through with them. The fact that he would make them now was strangely reassuring.

If Yuri said that she was going to be okay, Estelle didn't have a choice but to believe him, no amount of despair could change that.

Yuri never made promises he couldn't keep.

"Do you think you can stop after this?" Yuri asked and Estelle felt her heart sink. The fact that she'd made it into a habit, that she couldn't sleep or sometimes even breathe without it said worlds about how hard it would be to stop. She shook her head silently. "Okay." Yuri breathed deeply. She could picture how he looked without looking up, probably scowling and rolling his lower lip between his teeth because that was how he looked when he was thinking. "Then I want you to tell me whenever you feel like you need to."

Estelle blinked and looked up.

"Yeah," he repeated, "Whenever you start feeling like you need to, you come to me. No matter what time it is, no matter what we're doing or who we're with or where we are. If you just need a hug, if you need to talk, if you need someone to stay with you...you come to me. You're not alone and you're not going to be."

It wasn't not just that he wanted to be able to stop her from hurting herself, though of course he did...it was that he wanted to know when she feels like that, and maybe they could find a way to help. Estelle's not sick, at least not in a way that a doctor could fix otherwise she'd be able to do it herself, but the first rule of healing was that you treated the disease, not the symptoms. Treat the disease and the symptoms would fade.

"That's probably going to happen a lot," Estelle said very quietly.

"Then it happens a lot," Yuri agreed, "But I'm going to look out for you." He pulled away to look her in the eyes.

 _Okay?_

Silent, Estelle nods and Yuri shifts, suddenly remembering how out of his element he is now that the situation isn't so emotionally charged and frantic. Estelle just looks worn out and exhausted.

"Look, why don't you…" he begins, pauses, and then starts again, "Why don't you wash your hands and try and get some sleep?"

Estelle flinches.

"Do you think you'll be okay by yourself or would...would you rather stay with me? There's room." There wasn't, not really, considering that he shared a tent with Karol and Raven and Repede and it was cramped already. But if it was for Estelle he'd make there be enough room, because the idea of letting her go now felt like watching her fall over the edge of something awful.

Yuri'd gone off his own cliff already; the last thing he wanted was to see her do the same.

He survived thanks to Duke and later, thanks to his friends.

Estelle might not be so lucky if he couldn't manage to catch her.

Estelle scratched at her wrist, clearly torn, and then averted her eyes.

"Can I...can I stay with you?" she finally asked. "I won't be...I won't be good by myself.."

Yuri reached out and scrubbed a hand over her hair, mussing it out of place completely.

"Okay. Go wash up and meet me back here." There was a stream slightly behind camp that ran cool, clear water and better to wash the blood off there than to accidentally smear it on clothing or worse, the bucket they often used to take water out of said stream. The time spent also gave Yuri a chance to think.

He wasn't the person to deal with this. This would have been best left to someone like- Yuri blanked. There weren't rules for this, and who was he to think he knew who would be best for this? He hadn't even known that she was hurting so badly, so who did he think he was to think he knew what was best for her?

Shit.

When Estelle returned, her skin was scrubbed clean and if Yuri hadn't known what had happened, he would never have guessed. That was the problem though, wasn't it? Everyone relied on the healer to take care of people when things got hairy, so who took care of the healer? To expect her to remain unmarred by it all seemed very suddenly like folly.

They walked back to camp together and Yuri didn't notice when Estelle slipped shaking fingers into the spaces between his own. Yuri closed his grip around her and squeezed. Maybe if he held onto her, he could keep her together. It felt very important, obviously, but Yuri couldn't shake that feeling that if he fucked this up, they'd never be the same and Estelle would be the one who paid for it.

Again.

Unacceptable.

Yuri didn't think about how he was going to explain the princess sleeping in the boy's tent for the first time but in the end it turned out that he didn't have to. Karol was passed out like the dead and Repede just lifted his head, snorted without judgement, and went back to sleep, and Raven-

Yuri was glad he went in first because that gave Raven the chance to jerk, startled, and then immediately fake being asleep again when Estelle followed him in before she could notice. Yuri wasn't stupid or unobservant and he saw the sudden flash of understanding mixed with horror that flashed through his eyes, and he couldn't tell if Raven had gained some sort of unexpected ESP or if he'd simply jumped to the altogether correct conclusion that something somewhere had gone horribly wrong, but Yuri couldn't find himself to care.

"Are- are you sure?" Estelle asked tentatively and extracted her hand from Yuri's. "It's...I'm sorry, I wouldn't want to make it more crowded…"

There wasn't room, there really wasn't, not with two grown men and a kid and a dog but goddamnit, there would be room for Estelle if Yuri had to roll Raven out the flap like a bicycle.

"Nope, pretty sure I said there was room. And oh, look, there it is," Yuri gestured to the space between Raven and the wall that designated his sleeping space, "Come on, bedtime. Move it." It took too much badgering to get Estelle to step over faking Raven and slowly sink to the ground in a heap, and it looked less like she settled and more like her body gave up and dropped. Yuri wouldn't be surprised.

He was absolute _shit_ at this comforting business and his heart still thrummed with a constant low-grade panic, but that didn't stop him from joining her, scooching underneath his blanket and flapping the edge at her invitingly.

"Come on," he said, "I don't bite." That got a small smile from her, at least, and it got her to edge underneath his blanket, close enough that Yuri could tug her closer like he did it all the time, even though he couldn't remember ever letting anyone in his bed like this, _ever_. "Is there anything else I can do?"

That above all else seemed to be what dragged the reluctant, shuddering wheeze out of Estelle that sounded breathless and very close to tears.

"No, I-" her voice was choked up and shaky and _fuck_ , Raven was awake and hearing all of this, "No, this is enough. J-just...yes. This is enough."

It wasn't enough, Yuri knew. A few hugs and a promise weren't anywhere near enough, not anywhere near what she deserved to have someone give her, but again, it wasn't Yuri's place to decide what should or shouldn't be enough for her. Still, it didn't seem like enough.

He thought she'd might never sleep, that she'd be so tense and anxious that he'd be feeling her tremble all night, so Yuri was surprised when, eventually, she did slip into slumber, very quietly and without fanfare. Yuri watched her for a long time. Estelle didn't unclench her hands from the front of his shirt and almost without noticing he was doing it, Yuri ran his thumb over her wrist. Spotless, as if she had never been injured. Wasn't that just very much like Estelle?

So hurt and showing so very little of it.

Yuri almost couldn't wrap his mind around it and he can't even pretend to understand how she's thinking and how badly the feelings have to be in order to drive gentle Estelle to do that to herself. That's not a thing that Yuri's ever considered, even at his worst. He's never known anyone who's hurt themself before on purpose...except for one.

The Lower Quarter was a hard place and harder still for those who had a weakness and couldn't hack it, and no one had the time, money, or energy to spare for things like mental health. The person in question had been a thirteen year old boy and before a month's span had passed, the kid was gone. The idea of something like that happening to Estelle makes Yuri want to hold her closer, and he does. The idea that she could die, not from an injury but from the demons in her own head is terrifying.

He couldn't fight those for her, he wouldn't even know where to start.

They weren't his demons to fight but he wished that he could anyway.

Yuri didn't sleep well but he did eventually drift off and when he woke, Estelle was still curled up in a tiny, miserable ball next to him and Raven was the only person still in the tent. He didn't say anything but he watched Estelle with an unexpectedly gentle expression (tender, affectionate, broken, _broken_ ) and idly shifted her blade from palm to palm. Yuri patted his pockets even though he shouldn't have been surprised that it was gone. It wasn't like she couldn't buy her own in the next town and honestly, Yuri wasn't sure if he had the heart to keep her from doing so. Estelle was an adult and it was her right to be able to protect herself if she felt she needed to. But maybe if she had to get a new one, it would be easier for her to not.

Or at least buy the time for her to tell someone when things got bad instead of doing something drastic.

Raven offered it to him silently, handle first, and Yuri shook his head. He didn't want it. Honestly, with the events of last night he barely wanted to carry his own dagger.

"Should we…?" he asked and waved a hand over Estelle still out like a light. He wasn't sure what exactly he was asking.

Raven shook his head as if mirroring Yuri, as if for once he didn't have any words to say.

"Let her sleep," he said eventually, "And let her talk about it when she wants to. Let her be normal. Let her keep her dignity."

And then he left.

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AN2: Thank you very much for reading.


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